


Poetry of a Trans Teen

by treewhisker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 18:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treewhisker/pseuds/treewhisker
Summary: A cumulative collection of my poetry. Updates sporadically! I just want somewhere to put it.





	1. Emotions in the Storm

his sadness is like a pot,  
simmering evenly   
as the rain pours  
just outside the window  
to his heart.   
his anger boils  
and he must carefully  
watch the flame  
and the water  
lest he burn another  
or himself.   
his happiness   
is a cool glass  
left open in the summer sun.  
fear  
is ice,   
down to the bones  
and through his veins.  
but to him  
everything feels like a storm  
torrential and screaming,  
always there,  
until it isn’t.


	2. Sensory Overload

simple, level conversations   
ring like screams  
and cause a flinch  
despite the reality   
that they aren’t loud at all.  
dim lighting  
sears your eyes  
and stabs your head.  
featherlight touches  
make your skin crawl  
and blood boil,  
the smallest bumps  
of the hallway  
making you   
grind your teeth  
so you do not wail.  
heat,   
hardly warm,  
burns you,  
and makes your breathing  
labored.  
a bite,  
simultaneously   
tasting like dust and  
tasting like every flavor  
to ever exist,  
making you want  
to hurl everything up.  
a drop too much  
of food,  
of water.  
and you feel sick,  
nauseated.   
yet a drop too little,  
and you feel lightheaded,  
and your stomach   
begins to eat itself  
crying all the way.   
a faint, faint smell  
invades your nostrils  
like the huns into china,  
far, far too strong  
than what it is,  
making bile rise   
in your throat.   
the soft   
tap, tap, tap,  
of a leg, of fingers   
drives you steadily insane.  
the textures  
of cloth, paper, food  
could curdle milk  
with their touch alone.  
darkness, you scream,  
i need darkness!  
you hide,  
turn off the lights,   
the sounds,  
and cry.   
but small sounds remain  
along with the textures  
and the gnawing of your stomach.   
you scream.  
but no one listens.


	3. Tick Tock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grouping of smaller stories.

pop pop pop pop  
what is that noise?  
tok tok tok tok  
a knocking at the door?  
pok pok pok pok  
no, it is in here...  
kok kok kok kok  
underneath my skin?  
scritch scritch scritch scritch  
where could it be?  
tear tear tear tear  
ah... it was me...

* * *

Tick  
Tock  
Tick  
Tock  
The hands of time spin,  
fickle and uncaring.  
Oh, time,  
why do you leave without me?

* * *

 

who, who, who are you?  
says the owl,  
fear in his noble tone.  
i, i, i am true!  
says the demon,  
confusion in his heavy bones.  
who, who, who are you!  
cries the owl,  
i, i, i am you!

* * *

 

heavy, oh so heavy,  
do my weary bones feel.  
tired, oh so tired,  
does my sad body squeal.  
angry, oh so angry,  
my feet cry out.  
alone, oh so alone,  
my mind’s voice shouts.

* * *

 

railroad, railroad,  
how pretty you are.  
railroad, railroad,  
how much you scar.  
railroad, railroad,  
how far do you run?  
railroad, railroad,  
as far as the sun.  
railroad, railroad,  
where could you be?  
railroad, railroad,  
all over me.  
railroad, railroad,  
why do you hurt?  
railroad, railroad,  
_it’s what you deserve._


	4. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-con.

a slam,  
a cough,  
a wheeze,  
a sob.  
and who is here to listen  
but the devil Himself  
puppet strings attached to   
a sick, angry man—  
no, a boy.  
only a boy,   
yet capable of such cruelty.  
choking,  
pounding,   
crying,  
keening.  
but he is trapped,  
and out of fear,  
he makes no move to fight,  
having learnt his lesson.  
scre-  
choke.  
bite.  
smash.  
lying there, he silently weeps,  
stars circling his fading reality,  
and he laments his own decisions,  
despite it being no one’s fault  
aside from the perpetrator.


	5. Where do we begin?

discolored skin  
and empty eyes  
railroads in your arms  
and where do we begin  
when the cries  
of your heart  
shout louder  
than your voice   
and your mouth  
shuts  
like a vice  
to close out  
any plea  
your mind   
may procure  
because how?  
how can you release  
this tension,  
this emotion?  
when you know   
it clogs your brain  
like oil, like grease,  
shutting you down  
like a machine without gears.  
how could you wish this sluggishness,  
this hell,  
upon another?   
no, you think,  
no, i will remain.  
but all we want  
is to share your grief,  
your pain, your sorrow,  
because we want  
to see you tomorrow.  
so please,  
let us in.  
we can weather the storm,  
we can survive the fall,  
for we want to be with you,  
through it all.


	6. Gone

Whispers, whispers, whispers  
That is all it amounts to,  
In the end,  
When no one cares to notice,  
That the young one is gone,  
Vanished without a trace,  
Until the teacher calls his name.  
No one can seem to remember  
The plain,  
Unremarkable face,  
Of a child  
Gone so soon.

* * *

Anger and sorrow,   
Hand in hand,  
Await the weeping child.   
Why me?  
Why here?  
Why now?   
He cries, but none listen.  
Where am I?  
What’s happening?  
Where did everyone go?  
He stumbles in the dark.   
There is no sound.  
There is no light.   
There is nothing.  
Alone, in the blackness,  
A boy crumbles.

* * *

 

ghosty, wispy hands claw at your ankles as you walk. you trudge onward, but sometimes the hands snag. you stumble. around you, along thin bridges across a chasm, are others, all in the same situation as you. a few trip and fall. all of you stumble. no one cries out. no one says a word. many have made it to the end, and while you never saw them walking with you, they cheer you on from non-precarious ground. none venture into the bridges. they tell you to keep walking, to keep moving... but you aren’t even halfway there. you take another step.

 


End file.
